


"At least I didn't have a breakdown"

by Phoenix1018



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Autistic Jeremy Heere, Hurt/Comfort, Jeremy uses asl because i said so, Panic Attacks, Pre-Squip Jeremy Heere, Supportive Michael Mell, Trans Jeremy Heere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:42:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix1018/pseuds/Phoenix1018
Summary: The incident Jeremy refers to in the first more than survive repriseIt was a bad day, and Michael is a good friend
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Michael Mell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	"At least I didn't have a breakdown"

**Author's Note:**

> This is a oneshot, can be seen as platonic boyf riends or romantic. Jeremy also uses asl when he's nonverbal because of will roland

It was a bad day.

It started when Jeremy slept right through his alarm and didn't wake up until fifteen minutes before he had to leave. He fumbled with his alarm and sat straight up in bed, only to groan in pain and clutch his lower abdomen tightly. His insides felt like they were trying to tear themselves apart. Of  _ course  _ he had to get his period today. Fuck.

"Hey, uh, kiddo?" His dad called from outside his door. "Are you up yet? You gotta get to school soon."

He grit his teeth. "Yeah, I'm up!" He called back, wincing when his voice squeaked. He was already late, he had to get going. He hauled himself out of bed and hurriedly got dressed. throwing on a striped shirt and a dark cardigan over his binder. No time for breakfast. He had to go.

He tossed his backpack over his shoulder and jogged to the bus stop, ignoring the stabbing pain in his stomach every time his foot hit the sidewalk. By the time he reached the bus stop the pain in his stomach had doubled, and now there was a sharp stitch in his side from running in his binder. Great.

He made his way to the back of the bus where Michael was sitting and collapsed into the seat next to him.

"Hey, Jer," Michael said, not looking up from his phone.

"Hi," Jeremy murmured back, sliding further down into the seat and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. He tugged the soft, woolen sleeves of his cardigan over his hands, running his thumb over the material. The feeling was soothing.

Michael glanced up at Jeremy and frowned, clearly noticing his friend's discomfort. "You okay?"

"Yeah!" Jeremy said, his voice cracking unconvincingly. Another stab of pain hit his abdomen, and he had to clamp down hard on his lower lip to keep himself from crying out.

Michael noticed. "No you're not. What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"No, I just-" Jeremy cut himself off with a sigh. He couldn't lie to Michael, he always saw right through him. "Um. It's nothing. Just… cramps." He lowered his voice, shifting his eyes around to make sure nobody was listening.

Michael's eyes widened. "Oh.  _ Oh.  _ I'm sorry. Is there anything- uh, can I help? Do you need anything?"

Jeremy smiled a bit in spite of himself. "Not really. Unless you have any painkillers?"

"Nope, sorry. I can offer moral support?"

Jeremy laughed softly, wrapping himself further in his jacket. "Thanks, man."

The rode the rest of the way to school in silence. At some point Jeremy let his head fall onto Michael's shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut. He normally wouldn't show this affection towards his best friend in public, for fear of being called 10 different variations of the word "gay" by Rich, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired, irritable, and pained, he could let himself rest on Michael's shoulder for a bit. By the time they arrived at school, the pain in Jeremy's stomach had somewhat lessened, and for a moment it seemed like the day was getting better.

It didn't.

The school hallways were always noisy, but today it was almost unbearable, the shouts of his peers bouncing around the walls and clanging in his ears, clattering around inside his skull and making his head hurt. He bit his lip, bringing his sweater further over his hands as he waded through the sea of students, trying to ignore how anxious the noise level made him feel. 

By the time he reached his locker he'd already been tripped by Jake (who gave him a quick "sorry, dude" before rushing off, not bothering to help him up) and harassed by Rich. Rich seemed to be in an especially bad mood today, because he didn't even wait for Jeremy to say anything before shoving him into a locker, following it with a kick to Jeremy's shins. To top it all off, when he finally did make it to his locker, someone had taken a sharpie and scrawled one large, black word onto the chipped yellow paint.

**_QUEER._ **

Yep. It was a bad day.

He spent first period in the very back of the classroom, one hand clenched tightly in his hair and the other fidgeting with the eraser of the pencil he was supposed to be taking notes with. His teacher's voice sounded extremely far away, like she was speaking from behind a sheet of glass, and Jeremy could barely discern words from whatever lecture she was giving, let alone take notes on them. So instead he absently doodled circles in the corner of his paper, hoping that he wasn't called on.

_ Thwap!  _ Something rough smacked his forehead. He jumped, his pencil falling onto his desk with a clatter, staring down at what had hit him. It was a crumpled up sheet of paper torn from a spiral notebook. He picked it up and gingerly unfolded it. There was a sloppily scrawled message written at the bottom in sharpie.

**_Look up, tall ass._ **

Jeremy did, and another paper ball hit him in the face. He cringed, screwing up his face. Rich was staring back at him with his feet propped up on his desk, smirking at Jeremy. Jeremy scowled, hunching further into his chair and rubbing his thumb over the sleeve of his cardigan.

Bad day.

By the time lunch rolled around, Jeremy was jittery and irritable, and slammed his lunch tray down at his usual table with a frustrated sigh.

Michael jumped at the loud noise. "You alright, bud?" He said cautiously, watching Jeremy push his lunch tray to the side of the table and haul his backpack into his lap.

"No." Jeremy huffed, putting his head down on the table. "Rich is being extra unbearable today. I don't know why he's so mad at me. What did I ever do to him?"

"Nothing, Jer." Michael reassured, "Rich is just an asshole. Don't worry about him right now, who cares what he thinks?"

"Easy for you to say." Jeremy muttered, feeling a bit frustrated at Michael's lack of understanding. Michael didn't care what  _ anyone  _ thought, of course he wouldn't think that Rich harassing him was a big deal.

Michael must not have heard him, because he was already back on his phone, enormous headphones pulled over his ears. Completely tuned out. "I'll be right back." Michael said distractedly, standing up from his seat. "Gonna get a drink from outside."

And Jeremy was alone again, left with nothing but the painful stabbing in his middle to distract him from his thoughts.

Bad day.

"Twink!"

And it got worse.

Someone slammed a hand against the lunch table, and Jeremy jumped so badly that he nearly toppled out of his seat. Rich was standing above him, a carton of grape juice in his hand. 

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "What do you want, R-rich?" He said, his stutter betraying his attempt to seem indifferent. When Rich was in the mood for a round of Jeremy Tormenting, being scared usually made it even worse.

"Oh, nothing. Just thought you looked especially lame today and thought I'd come over here to tell you." Rich said casually, tossing the carton in the air and catching it with the other hand. "How does it feel to be the the biggest loser in school, Jeremy Queer?" 

Jeremy desperately wished Michael was here. Michael always knew how to deal with Rich when he was like this. "Do you need something from me, Rich?" He asked, proud of how steady his voice sounded.

"Yeah, actually." Rich opened the carton he was holding, grinning. "I wanted to give you something."

"Give me something?" Jeremy said warily. Why would Rich give him something? Rich hated him. "What is it?"

"This."

Before Jeremy knew what was happening, Rich lunched forward and turned the carton he was holding over, tipping its contents onto Jeremy's head. 

Jeremy gasped, the cold liquid drenching his head and soaking his upper body. The juice stung his eyes and soaked his hair, and his cardigan, his  _ favorite  _ blue cardigan, was now marred with ugly splotches of purple, the juice making the soft cotton cling to his skin.

His jacket. It was _ ruined.  _

He heard laughter ripple across the cafeteria, and he knew it was at his expense. He looked like a complete fucking idiot, and his jacket was ruined, and yeah, he was definitely panicking now.

He could feel his bottom lip start to tremble, his breathing coming in great, uneven gasps. The sticky liquid on his jacket was starting to make his skin itch, but he just clutched it to his skin tighter, trying anything to keep himself from slipping away. He tried gripping his sleeve to comfort himself, but his sleeves were cold and damp and sticky, and he felt his hands start to shake.

"Aw, poor Jeremy's gonna  _ cry!"  _ Rich teased cruelly. "Honestly, what a  _ fucking  _ loser, am I right?"

A single tear ran down his cheek. He was completely locked into his seat, unable to defend himself or run away, trembling from head to toe. The laughter was getting louder, louder _ , louder _ until it was a roar in his ears, making his head thump painfully with every beat of his racing heart. He was vaguely aware of the pain that was coming from both of his hands, but he couldn't figure out what was causing it amidst his panic. Was he hyperventilating? He couldn't even tell anymore. Black spots were winking like stars in his vision, and he could feel himself slowly slipping.

_ "Hey, what the hell is going on here? Get away from him!!" _

Jeremy hunched further in on himself when he heard the shouting. Too loud. Too much.

_ "Jeremy. Jeremy, are you okay?" _

Jeremy. That was him, wasn't it? 

_ "Jer, buddy, can you hear me?" _

Could he? Jeremy could hear the voice, but it sounded incredibly far away, like someone was trying to speak while underwater. He couldn't seem to figure out how to answer, either. 

_ "Okay, listen. I want you to look around and think of four things you can see, okay? You don't even have to tell me what they are, just think them in your head. Just four things, alright?" _

Four things? Jeremy could barely see anything right now. Four seemed like a lot. His chest was still heaving, and tears were streaming down his face. But he had to try, someone wanted him to. He focused hard, trying to make sense of the blurry shapes around him. Everything was so dark and fuzzy, but eventually his eyes zeroed in on a small object right below him. A shoelace. His shoelace, which was untied and sitting in a puddle of juice.

_ One. _

His vision was getting clearer now, objects were becoming more defined and the black spots were slowly fading away. He was slowly gaining feeling back in his fingers. He was able to spot more things.

_ Apple. Backpack. Shoes. _

Shoes that were not his own. White shoes, sitting right in front of him. He slowly lifted his gaze to look at the person who'd been trying to calm him down. Red hoodie. White headphones. Glasses. 

_ Michael. _

"Jer?" Michael said, his eyes filled with worry, his hands held up in front of him in a gesture of surrender. "You with me, bud?" In response, Jeremy raised a trembling fist and tapped it lightly against his forehead. Michael gave a relieved huff of laughter. "Yeah, it's Mike. You're okay, okay?"

Jeremy slowly glanced around. Almost everyone in the cafeteria had gone silent, and everyone was staring at him, some looking concerned, others looking like they were trying not to laugh. Rich was standing next to the wall, his hand over his mouth, looking horrified. He could feel his head slowly come back to him, and the embarrassment slowly start to set in. Did he really just have a meltdown in front of the  _ entire school?  _

"Hey, Jer, stay with me." Michael said, making Jeremy turn back to look at him. "Can you talk?"

Jeremy thought for a moment, then shook his head. Then, with great difficulty, he raised his closed fist and rubbed it against his chest.  _ Sorry. _

"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to apologize." Michael reassured. "Why don't we get you out of here? Is it okay if I touch you?"

Jeremy nodded, and Michael put an arm around Jeremy's shoulder, helping him from his seat. He could feel every pair of eyes on him as Michael led him out of the cafeteria, and his cheeks prickled uncomfortably.

Right before they reached the door Rich stepped in front of both of them, looking pained. "Heere," he said, his voice oddly strained, "I…. I didn't mean to- I don't know why I-"

"Save it." Michael snapped harshly, and Rich's face fell. "Come on, Jer."

Michael walked Jeremy down the hall and to the nearest boys bathroom. "Come on, you're all sticky." Michael said. He gestured for Jeremy to sit on the floor, across from the sinks. "You need to take this jacket off."

Jeremy nodded, and only then did he realized that his hands were curled into such right fists that his nails were digging into his palms, leaving dark red crescent moon shapes in his pale skin. He relaxed his hands, flexing his shaking fingers a few times before peeling off his cardigan. He felt his heart sink when he saw how much of its soft surface was covered with ugly purple blotches.

Michael looked back and saw Jeremy staring down at his cardigan, and he must have had a pretty pathetic expression on his face because Michael hastened to say, "It'll probably be fine. If we get it in the wash soon enough, you probably won't even be able to tell." Jeremy shrugged, and Michael sighed, pulling the cardigan from Jeremy's hands. Jeremy shivered, not liking how exposed he felt without his jacket covering his arms. The cold air prickled his skin and made the hair on his arm stand up.

Michael saw, and he wordlessly pulled his red hoodie over his head and offered it to Jeremy, who took it with grateful nod. It was way too big for him and went well past his knuckles when he put it on, but it was comforting. The hoodie was soft, and it smelled like Michael; an overwhelming scent of weed with a hint of citrus and something Jeremy couldn't quite distinguish, like the smell of the air right before a thunderstorm. He buried his face into the worn fabric and breathed deeply, listening as Michael turned on the sink and ripped a paper towel from the dispenser. He tried to steady his breathing, but his binder was painfully restricting his chest and every breath took a great amount of effort. 

"Okay, Jeremy, look up. Your face is all sticky."

Jeremy let out a small laugh at that in spite of himself, and Michael scoffed. "Idiot." He said playfully. "Quit being horny and look at me. You're gonna get my jacket sticky."

Jeremy looked up. Michael was kneeling in front of him, a damp paper towel in his hand, which was extended out to Jeremy like an offering. "Here. Is there anything I can do while you clean yourself up? Do you need me to get anything?"

Jeremy thought for a moment. What he wanted, more than anything right now, was to go home. He was exhausted, and the thought of staying at school for the rest of the day was excruciating. He splayed out his hand and tapped his thumb against his forehead.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows. "'Dad'? You want me to call your dad?" Jeremy nodded, taking the paper towel from Michael and dabbing at his face, wiping away some of the juice. "Okay. Hang on, I'll tell him to come pick you up, okay?"

Michael stepped outside of the bathroom, and Jeremy wiped clumsily at his face as he listened to Michael talk on the phone, his voice muffled but still distinguishable through the bathroom door.

"- come pick Jeremy up? …. Yes, he's okay, he's just nonverbal right now, but he asked me to call you… I'm not really sure, I think somebody spilled something on him and he had a panic attack… okay, I'll let him know... No problem at all, Mr. Heere. I'll always take care of him for you. Alright, bye."

Michael stepped back into the room. "Your dad will be here in 20 minutes. You wanna wait in the nurse's office till he gets here? It's probably more comfortable than the bathroom floor."

In response, Jeremy stuck his hand out to Michael, and Michael took it, helping Jeremy to his feet. As Michael walked Jeremy down the hall towards the front office, Jeremy lifted his hand to his chin and brought it back down, making sure Michael could see.  _ Thank you. _

Michael tightened his grip around Jeremy's shoulders. "You're welcome, Jer."


End file.
